


Exit To Your Right

by zell_is_hell



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz (Two River Cast) RPF, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Cyberpunk, Dystopia, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-04 00:33:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15830103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zell_is_hell/pseuds/zell_is_hell
Summary: As a kid, your vision for the future goes beyond your wildest dreams. From holograms to time machines, but what if I were to tell you that all of that is real?Travel into the future with Michael Mell as you embark a twisting journey into over 100 years. Blinding neon lights blinding your every step through the city ran by President Eric (The Squip). As you read more, you begin to unravel the dark truths of the future, suddenly giving Michael the urge to wanting to go back home. First, he'll need to pick wisely on who to trust before time runs out and the agents find him.**NOTHING BASED OFF THE ORIGINAL BE MORE CHILL PLOT!!! ONLY CHARACTERS & PERSONALITY TRAITS & APPEARANCES WERE KEPT**





	1. Chapter 1

Michael had wished he hit his back on something more comforting, like a pillow, but instead, it felt like he broke his spine.  
All the excruciating pain running through his veins like molten lava made the man dizzy. The scent of puke then greeted his nostrils which caused a twisting feeling inside Michael's stomach.

Where was he?

Michael tried to hold himself up with his elbows to look at what was beneath him. As he did, his movements caused a mushy crunch, which made Michael less hopeful that he was lying on a bed.  
He shifted his head back and immediately wanted to hurl in disgust. 

He was in a cramped, filled-to-the-top, street alleyway dumpster.

Michael took a deep breath as an attempt to calm himself and instantly regretted it. The more he breathed the more of the toxic stench inflamed his ability to smell. It was scents of rotting fruits and other bits of food alongside baby diapers and other unnecessary thoughts Michael had thought about in what's contained in the plastic bags below him.  
He weakly sat up and felt something sticky on his hands. He tried desperately to ignore it, although it didn't help that it was vibrantly showing off against his dark-leather fingerless gloves.  
His muscles ached as he fully sat up, his weak arms barely supporting him. He then tired himself out and fell back to his lying down position: and there he was again, lying on a cushion of trash bags contained with who knows what?  
"Uhm, hello?" A soft voice rang through Michael's ear.  
His eyes scatter round,  
"Hello? Who's here?" He panics, trying to get himself up again.  
"I'm just here to collect the garbage! There is an obvious 'no solicitation' sign here!" The voice calls out again, a little louder this time.  
"I'm not in fact soliciting! I just," Michael thought about it, "Live here!"  
"But I thought that President Eric stated after the extermination of homeless people nobody would go homeless again."

Michael was then greeted by a shadow and a figure of a young woman looming over his presence.  
She squeaked and jumped back a little as if she just saw a spider.  
Michael had enough time to examine her features. She was light skinned and had a small face with dark grass-green eyes pairing with her light blonde strands of hair falling onto her forehead with the rest tied up in a high ponytail. She wore a dirty white tank top and black jeggings powdered with grey dust and dark brown markings.  
"Please don't harm me, sir!" The young woman cried,  
"Harm you? Please! I'm not here to harm. I'm just as frightened as you are, ma'am." Michael groaned, trying to support himself up once again with his elbows.

The young woman then crept back up to the side of the dumpster,  
"Are you saying you're not from here?" She asked, the tone of her voice raising curiosity over Michael's whereabouts.  
"I," Michael couldn't just expose he wasn't from here. He doesn't want to become the next wanted criminal.  
"I guess you could say that I'm confused. I don't remember much." he lied.

The woman nodded slowly as if she was a robot trying to process information. She scanned her eyes up and down Michael like he was a grocery store barcode.  
"Do you mind if you take out your wrist? I want to check something." She suspiciously asked.  
Michael dumbly did as he was told, removing his left glove and holding out his trembling fingers at the light blonde girl.  
Her dark green eyes then widened from fright, a small gasp escaping her cracked dried lips.

"You have to come with me and tell me the truth because the truth might as well be the only reason you'll remain alive."

•••

Michael was bought to an apartment complex, supposedly where the young woman was living.

On his way there, he was greeted by blinding neon Blue lights shimmering brightly advertising billboards. The young male then noticed that the vehicles filling up the roads looked as if they were hovering. Michael couldn't believe what he was witnessing. It looked as if it were taken from the movie "Ready Player One". 

The yellow-tinted ceiling lights reflecting off the smooth cream-colored single leather couch matched the lonely atmosphere of the young woman's place. The small yet upgraded flat-screen TV playing quietly as the daily news was announced.  
"President Eric will be announcing new agent recruits shortly. Check out more on channel 1098." The voice of the news anchor rang in a deep menacing tone. 

Michael sat down staring at the TV, glancing over at his reflection from time to time. He was then interrupted by the sudden appearance of the young woman walking in with an ice bag and first aid kit.  
"This is going to sound ridiculous, but do you mind if you take off your garments waist up?" She asked, a tint of pink shading her cheeks.  
"My, what?" Michael tilted his head in confusion,  
"Do you not understand simple English vocabulary?" The young woman sighed,  
"Simple? Ma'am please, I believe that is complex English  
escaping your mouth."  
"I'm simply just asking you to take off your shirt!" The young woman raised her voice, her face flushing a little warmer.

Michael raised a brow and bit his lip nervously,  
"Well, that was straightforward."  
"Maybe if you knew English it wouldn't be this awkward!" the young woman said as she rubbed her eyebrows with her right ring finger and thumb.  
Michael then began to slowly take off his white lab coat stained with patches of oil, dust, rust and other irrelevant substances that was able to get onto his coat back at his lab. He then unstrapped his disgustingly covered in muck leather brown fingerless gloves and set them down on the wooden side table next to the couch. He began to unbutton down half of his white smelly polo and left the last four buttons on.

"Surely this is enough for you to patch me up," Michael said, pushing his black-framed glasses back up to the bridge of his nose and removing his arms out of the crumpled sleeves, allowing the polo to fall to his waist and expose his bruised back.

The young woman nodded and began dabbing the main bruise with an ice pack which was beginning to swell up a cherry red shade. The sudden cold touch pricked Michael's back which caused him to tense up a bit.  
"That's cold!" Michael whined,  
"It's a special Ice made specifically for helping bruises. Now hold still! I need to attach the ice pack onto you." The young woman said as she reached out for the bandage tape.  
"Attach this ice frozen thing onto my back? No way woman!" Michael flinched as the young woman began to wrap around the bandage tape around his stomach.  
"Maybe if you were from here you could've purchased a "First Aid Healing" mode in your system which helps you heal simple bruises and cuts once you are hurt." She scoffed, continuing to wrap around the bruise with the bandage at least three times.  
"What do you mean by 'purchased'?" Michael blinked obnoxiously.  
"Well, when most kids turn about five years old, they receive a vaccination shot that contains highly advanced technology that basically enters into the veins. This enables you to have a holographic vision and basically have your own phone and laptop built into you. When you purchase something for yourself, it will enable. Like for appearances I can do this." The young woman's left eye began to glow and shot out a holographic view of something that looked similar to a laptop screen. All of a sudden, the tips of her golden blonde hair began to fade in an oak brown shade.  
"Woah," Michael said, his eyes widened from amazement.  
She then took the color off and closed her holographic view.  
"Anyways, so when I mean by first aid packs I mean if you get hurt you are immediately healed or patched up."

The young woman then ripped off the end of the bandage and secured the ice pack in place. She then set the first aid equipment onto the side table and grabbed one of the hazelnut colored-circular cushions that decorated the couch and placed it behind Michael's back for comfort.  
"Why don't you tell me your story?" She said as she began to sit comfortably on the other end of the couch.

Michael gulped uneasily and opened his mouth to speak, hesitant to say the wrong things.  
"What will you do once I do tell you my story?" Michael asked, putting his arms back into his sleeves and lifting his polo back to blanket over his bruised back.  
"Depends. I'll either turn you into the agents if it's silly or I will help you if it's serious." The young woman said as she folded her arms.  
Michael took a deep breath and looked up at her, "Alright. This is going to sound stupid, but it's all true."  
The young woman stared at him, her eyes widened with interest. She looked so eager to hear his explanation to why he was there, sitting right next to him looking like utter shit.

"I'm a Scientist from the year 2022. I was building something that scientists and engineers have been striving to accomplish for generations and generations. It sounded such a dumb idea to others, but I was able to build a time machine." Michael was then cut off by the young woman's gasp. It was as faint as a whisper, but it was there.  
"What's wrong?" Michael asked, raising a brow at the woman.  
"It's just if you need to build a time machine- you'll be killed." She said, looking down at the carpeted floor.  
"Oh, well, you kinda read my mind there." He said, awkwardly creeping his hand up to the back of his neck and rubbing small strands of his hair to try and keep his anxiousness stabled. He was already perplexed by his whole situation. Of course, the young male was aware he had gone into the future, but how far?  
"You mustn't!" The young woman raised her voice,  
"Why would you be killed in the first place?" Michael asked curiously, tilting his head to one side.

The young woman then gulped. She began to nervously tap her fingers in a rapid pace on her lap. Michael observed her carefully as she obnoxiously bit her lip like she had to say the right words because she feels as if eyes are spiraling around her and spectating her every move.  
"Back in the year 2134, people from this generation were desperate to escape. Due to advanced technology, Time machines were easily built. Although, once President Eric found out this was happening. He killed anybody who tried to attempt to go back to the past so the future we're in now can also be the future of the people in the past. So now, parts used to make a time machine are illegal and could lead to a possible life sentence to death." She hesitantly explained, looking off to the cream-colored painted wall that seemed to be cracking off and aging with the apartment.  
"Wait, the year 2134? What year is it now?" Michael asked in a panicked tone as he furrowed his eyebrows at the female.  
"It's the year 2156, those events happened twenty-four years ago, I was two years old at the time."

Silence then arose. Michael could feel the awkward tension lingering onto him. It made the male shudder at the fact he's one hundred and thirty-four years into the future. It was hard for Michael to sink into his system. He then began to wonder what his grave looked like, did he even have a grave? Although his priority is to get back to his time period. 

"I apologize if I had frightened you over the information." The young woman then spoke, she then looked up at Michael with her twinkling eyes as if they were emeralds. Now that Michael is seeing her closely, her eyes were a beautiful shade of a mysterious green, as if secrets were being contained in them of her experiences.  
"What are you staring at?" The young woman asked in a slightly disgusted tone.  
Michael then began to feel his face heat from embarrassment.  
"Oh sorry! I blanked out." He lied.  
The young woman raised a brow and looked down, strands of loose hair from her high ponytail falling onto her face.  
"If anything, I should be sorry," Michael then began, the young woman shifting her head up a little bit to make eye contact with the male. "I crashed in a dumpster and you coincidentally found me and brought me here when you could've been continuing your day doing your job."  
"Well, I would've felt guilty if you were killed." She replied faintly.  
Michael then felt pity over her. She was just a regular young woman whose job is to clear trash bags from dumpsters, and here she is: contemplating if she should report a random stranger from the year 2022 to the government.  
"Why don't we clear the air a little bit? I'm Michael! Michael Mell to be exact. You?" He asked kindly as he looked at the young woman's face.  
She then put on a smile just the slightest with the corner of her lips and made eye contact back at the young man.  
"I'm Brooklyn Lohst, but please, call me Brooke."  
"Brooke, that's a nice name."  
She blushed lightly, breaking off the eye contact and looking away. 

"Anyways," Michael began, looking at the television. "How are we supposed to build a time machine? I need to get back to my year, I can't simply stay here!" Michael panicked as he started to fiddle with his trembling fingers.

Silence struck again. Michael looked over at Brooke who seemed to be in the middle of thinking.  
"How am I supposed to trust you?" She asked with slight suspicion in her tone.  
"Why would I be asking you to help me do something illegal for me?" The young male then replied, shrugging a little  
Brooke then nodded, looking at Michael with a confident and prideful smile. "Very well then, I fully believe you."  
Michael then grinned widely as a response.  
"Although, where am I supposed to build a time machine without causing too much noise to your apartment building?" 

Brooke smirked, standing up and stretching out her back from sitting for too long.  
"I think I know a guy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Brooke left Michael lost with a smirk on her face. 

She stood up from the couch and left a light concave mark on the cushions, using her fingers to swipe off the light golden strands of her hair falling onto her face. Brooke’s face was round and small like a porcelain doll. Her cheeks naturally glew a soft rosy pink against her light cream skin. She walked over to the wooden coat-hanger standing tall by the entrance of her home to grab a honey-yellow colored knitted cardigan hung on it’s own showing off it’s bold color. Brooke then slid her arms through the cardigan sleeve-holes and let the piece of fabric hug her from behind, letting the cardigan rest on her shoulders like a cape.   
“What are you doing?” Michael asked with an inquisitive tone in his voice.  
“I know a guy who may help you, like I said about two minutes ago.” Brooke responded blankly as she was stating the obvious. I mean seriously is Michael dumb?

Michael nodded slowly, trying to make it look as if he understood what she was getting from (which he didn't). 

“But, you will need a disguise.” Brooke placed a finger on her bottom lip, leaning onto her swayed hip as she traced her jewel-like eyes up and down Michael’s appearance.   
“But unfortunately I don't have a chip to change my appearance blah blah blah.” Michael mocked, using his hand to imitate a mouth talking.

Brooke frowned from the comment, “You know I can simply just turn you in.”   
Michael then froze, dropping his arm immediately like a rock thrown into a pond and sinking to the ground.  
“That’s what I thought.” Brooke teased, crossing her arms. 

Michael was then grabbed by the arm and forced up, standing at a whopping six-foot.   
“Why do i even need a disguise anyways?” Michael said, swiping his arm off Brooke’s grip.  
“So just incase an agent sees you have no chip, it’ll be hard to track you down.” The blonde girl hair responded, going into a room.

The confused male followed, entering to a small squared room with a single inflatable mattress blown up on the corner and a window viewing the bright city of lights.  
“Im assuming you’re not the “material things” kind of gal?” Michael joked, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. He was then reminded with a tremendous pain that he was bruised. 

Brooke rolled her eyes, approaching Michael with a bold red scarf and motorcycle goggles.  
“These will do for now.” She said, getting onto the tips of her toes as she begun to twirl the piece of cotton fabric around him and securing it in place. The young woman then stepped back and tossed him the scratched circular lensed goggles.  
“Put them on.” She said as he got back to her regular standing position, shrugging to the left with her head tilting the same direction. 

Michael did as he was told, putting the goggles on and over his eyes. He blinked, seeing blurry scratches and dust.   
“I feel blind in these.” He said blankly, using his fingers as an attempt to wipe off the access dust off the lenses.  
“Well then lemmie guide you to where we’re going.’ Brooke replied in a casual tone as she crept her fingers onto Michael’s.

The male could feel his face begin to heat up from embarrassment as he felt the tips of their pinkies connect. “Woah! What are you doing?” Michael jerked his hand away, lifting off the goggles to make eye contact with Brooke.  
“Ugh! Do you have to make a big deal over everything that involves me having to touch you?” The young woman said through clenched teeth as she pouted out the room.  
“How else am I supposed to react? It’s all so sudden!” Michael blushed even more, following behind Brooke.

A sigh escaped Brooke’s small lips as she swiped her keys off the small circular breakfast table,  
“Just follow me, okay? And I’m going to have to hold you so we don’t look that suspicious.”   
Michael nodded hesitantly, biting his lips nervously as he thought of all the negative outcomes that can come out with this establishment. 

Brooke dragged Michael out the apartment, hooking her hands onto his arm as they walked down a few cinder-block steps to the main foyer. The apartment building only consisted about 8 floors and is located right centered in the city. The dark-haired male wondered how Brooke managed to sleep at night with all the noise and lights.   
The five-foot four-inch girl led Michael through the glass door, stepping out into the bare open as loud music from across the street was being played. Michael couldn’t make out what genre the music was, but just know it was nothing close to the music being played in 2023. 

“Brooke, where exactly are we going?” Michael asked, looking down at the young woman and his face still flushed over the fact somebody was willing to hook their hands onto his arm, It was an uncomfortable arrangement, but he began to enjoy Brooke’s touch. He could feel the unsteadiness trembling on her fingers, which made him not want to pull away. Michael can sense that Brooke was scared and she has every right to be.   
“Just be patient, his place is only a few blocks down.” The blonde-girl replied, walking in a normal place down the sidewalk as cars hover pass the two. 

Michael then started to have memories that occurred when he was in highschool. How he was a huge fan of computer science and wanted to create flying televisions.   
“Do you guys have flying TV’s?” The male asked curiously, looking down at the young woman.  
Brooke gave Michael a neutral expression, as if she didn’t know what expression to put on her face.  
“Yes, indeed we do. Although, they’re unnecessary and only the dumbest of people would purchase such a useless thing,”  
Michael scoffed, a smile appearing onto his face. “You’re very straight forward.”  
Brooke pouted, “I wouldn’t say i’m straight forward. I consider myself passionate.”   
Michael shrugged, “Same difference.”  
“Is not”  
“Is to.”  
“Is not”  
“Is to.”  
Brooke clenched her teeth, “I swear to Mother Maria, I’m going to strangle you.”   
Michael chuckled, giving her a smug grin. In response, Brooke just blushed off to the side.

They proceeded to walk, until Brooke had stopped Michael. They were looking upon a vandalized metal garage door with a rusty sign reading “Goranski’s Mechanics.” The building looked abandoned and unused, giving Michael an uneasy feeling about how this is going to turn out.

“We’re here.” Brooke said, unhooking her hands off Michael’s arm and stuffing them into her jean pockets.

“Please Jesus, let this not be a serial killer.” Michael begged in his head.

Brooke walked up to the garage door permanently stained with the word “LIT” written in that graffiti font with a flame red, sun orange and black. She knocked on the metal door aggressively and stood tall.  
“Open up, Richie boy!” Brooke said in a tough sounding tone.

No response.

The male felt his stomach churn, he looked at Brooke as if she were crazy. “I don't think anybody is-”  
The sound of crashing cut off Michael as the metal garage began to rise in front of the pair.  
“Can you not call me “Richie boy”, Brookie Cookie?” A voice responded with a slight snickering tone.

Once the metal garage fully rose, a male who appears to be 5’5 stood boldly. His rusty hazelnut brown hair streaked with an obnoxious shade of red flipped over a jungle green bandana patterned with a white design. He wore a white muscle tee coated with dust, exposing his broader muscular arms covered in tattoos of a drum set, rose with a microphone and many more. He then laid his auburn eyes on Michael and tilted his head.  
He whistled, “Dang, who’s this?”   
Brooke ignored as she marched right passed him, going into the garage and leaning up against a rusty red scratched truck.  
“I-um,” Michael awkwardly smiled. “The name is Michael Mell.”  
The male bit his lip, “The name is Richard Goranski, but call me Rich. Come in!” 

Michael anxiously stepped in, being greeted with the unpleasant scent of sweat and gas.   
“So, you’re a mechanic?” Michael asked, observing the materials surrounding him.  
“A /holographic/ mechanic. I heard we haven't had a single mechanic since the year 2114.” Rich replied as he pressed a keypad coated with spiderwebs.  
The garage door began to lower down. Meanwhile, Brooke is gazing over the wrecked maroon colored truck, the glass shattered as if a ball was thrown at it.

Brooke then perked her head up. “Oh yeah, Rich. Michael here is from the year 2022-”  
“What.” The red-streaked male interrupted as his eyes planted on Brooke full of confusion.   
“It’s a long story, Richie, but everything will make sense once we have time to tell you.” Brooke said as she softly tucked strands of her hair behind her ear.   
“Turn him into the agents! He’s a threat!” Rich exclaimed.  
The blonde girl looked at him as if she were just insulted, “I won't do such a thing to an innocent man!”  
“But who knows what he is going to do!”  
“He can't do anything! He doesn't even have a chip!”   
“That gives him no excuse! If he goes back in time, he’ll spill what the future has in store!”  
“I want that to happen! I can't stand living in such a state!”   
“Oh there you go again! Can't be appreciative of what we have.” Rich clenched his fists.  
“So you’re grateful for our president killing off the homeless people?” Brooke raised her voice.

The room fell silent. 

Michael had the sudden urge to cry. He was twenty-three years old and yet there he was, standing in a skeptical mechanic’s garage looking at various objects on a plastic white table.

“I didn't know the future would be like this, but the more I stay here the more i want to go home.” The dark-haired male spoke. He slipped off the goggles off his head, the small fringe of his hair dropping onto his sweaty forehead from the humid heat of the garage. 

Rich turned his attention to Michael, his mouth hanging open slightly from the argument that he just wrapped up with Brooke.

"I'm a Scientist from the year 2022. I was building something that scientists and engineers have been striving to accomplish for generations and generations. It sounded such a dumb idea to others, but I was able to build a time machine." Michael looked up, staring into Rich’s eyes sternly with his dark warm chocolate brown eyes. “I know you may not trust me because if i have to be honest, I don't know if I should trust you either. But please Rich, please help me atleast the tiniest bit.” 

The small male sighed deeply, “Fine.”   
Michael blinked, “You mean it?”  
“Does it seem like I have a choice?  
“Touché.”  
He then gave Rich a small smile, which caused the male to look down. 

Rich was harder to convince compared to Brooke. His hazelnut brown eyes made it looked as if he wanted to kill Michael on the spot. Michael needed to find a way to show Rich he was telling the truth, but how?

“What parts do you need for the time machine?” Brooke spoke, cutting off the fearful tension between the three.

“Well I need a few magnetic fields to activate the force required to travel through time. I will also need a teleportation activator and make a keypad input to indicate which year I want to go to.” Michael responded, leaning against a tool table lightly and placing his pointer finger on his dry lips.

“Where the hell can we even get a magnetic field?” Rich bitterly said, crossing his arms and furrowing his eyebrows at Michael.

“How am I supposed to know? I'm not from here!” Michael aggressively shot back, irritation tickling his temples from the annoying vibe Rich is generating.  
“If Brooke weren't here, I’d beat you up right now.” Rich hissed.   
“Can you both stop?” Brooke shouted, clenching her fists and standing up.

The two males blinked at the small girl, whom was biting her lip to prevent any mean words from slipping out. “You two are such a handful! First off, Rich be nice, he’s just homesick! He wants to go home as much as you want to see your brother!” Rich then fell silent, an empty expression adjusted onto his face, “As for you! Just because you’re not from here doesn't give you an excuse to mock another person's knowledge who is /from/ here!” Michael then rubbed the sides of his arms, looking down shamefully. 

Brooke took a deep breath to calm herself, “Why don't we just push aside the stuff about the time machine and maybe get to know one-another? So maybe we can learn to trust.” 

Michael then caught Rich glancing at him, immediately putting his sight on something else. 

Then a gentle knock was heard from the garage doors.

“Oh, I forgot to mention I invited somebody earlier before you two came along uninvited.”


End file.
